As the Years Roll By
by Yanagi Uxinta
Summary: Seven years after fleeing Lothering, the Champion of Kirkwall reflects on all she has lost...and gained.


Hey guys, just another one-shot to get my brain working again despite my on-going jetlag. This idea's been toying with me for a while, so I finally decided to write it. A sort of 'what-if' scenario, if you will. As ever, any feedback is appreciated, and I hope you enjoy.

**Disclaimer: All characters and settings belong to Bioware.**

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><p>Seven years. Seven years since she had fled Lothering. Then, she had had a family. Mother, sister, brother.<p>

Now there was no one.

Her sister, stolen from her outside of Lothering. She'd always been the brave one; yet at the same time the peacemaker in the frequent occasions she and her brother had argued. She was Mother's rock after Father had died; she supported them all, kept the family together and alive.

Then the ogre had charged...

Of course, she had been the one to stand between it and Mother. Helpless, the others had looked on as their brave, beautiful sister was crushed in the monster's hand and dashed against the ground.

For someone who had used her magic reluctantly, she had revelled in the power she possessed during that fight. For the first time, the woman who would become the Champion of Kirkwall had given herself to her arcane power completely; using every drop of magic inside her to fell the creature that had taken her beloved sister from her.

Then she reached Kirkwall, with the broken remains of her family, and the woman who would become like a sister in the following years. A year of servitude, smuggling alongside her brother and friend, all to keep their mother in a house, if not the home she desired, and to keep herself safe from the Templars grasp.

The expedition...

Poor, stubborn, brave Carver. He'd refused to stay behind when they ventured into the Deep Roads. Her healing was rendered useless in the face of her brother's blighted blood. To this day, she wished she'd been more selfish; had dragged Anders away from his patients in the clinic and into the hell he hated. Perhaps he could have done something; knew some healing spell she didn't, or had some Grey Warden ability that would have saved her brother. But Carver had died, cradled by one of his sister's arms as the other tipped a swift, painless death down his throat.

Her mother hadn't lived to see her only remaining child be granted the title 'Champion'. Leandra, only just starting to live for herself again in their large, empty mansion. No doubt the madman that took her mother had thought a gift of white lilies enough to entrance the eldest Amell lady, but it was not so. He'd had to trick her, when she was on her way to visit their reprobate uncle.

Killed, then pieced together in a macabre jigsaw of women's bodies, Leandra had died with a proud smile for her surviving child.

Her own smile was sad, soft as she gazed down at the locket in her hand. She could only assume that her mother had dropped it in the Foundry as she helped her wounded murderer to his home. On the mantelpiece above the fire sat five portraits; one for each member of their family. Her mother had insisted they each sit whilst she painted a small picture of each of them. Father had been alive then, and had borne the task of sitting still with far more grace and dignity than twin thirteen year olds and a sixteen year old. That had been two years before he succumbed to his illness. The portrait of her mother was one she and Carver had found when they broke into the old Amell Estate, to find their grandfather's will. Leandra looked happier in that old picture than she had since her husband had died.

The ache in her chest burned its way up to her throat, making her eyes prickle and blur with unshed tears.

"Hawke?"

Abruptly, the Champion spun in her seat, her gleaming eyes wide with surprise. She hadn't heard her ragged apostate return from his clinic. He stood in the doorway, a look of concern creasing his face when he saw her so close to tears.

"Bethany, love, what is it?"

Bethany Hawke managed to summon up a watery smile as he crossed to her, holding her tightly when she stood to meet him.

She sniffed before speaking, her voice wobbling through her smile.

"Just remembering. It's been seven years today since...since Lothering,"

He drew back slightly, enough to tenderly brush away the tear that had escaped, a look of understanding crossing his face.

Bethany smiled, relieved from the heaviness of her grief for a moment. She wasn't entirely alone, she knew. She had Anders, who loved her, though his increasing devotion to his cause had started to scare her. She wished she could pull him back to the funny, witty man she occasionally glimpsed in the moments he let his guard down. Gamlen was here, too – they may not get on very well, but underneath his grouching and defensive snapping, he did care, and would visit often in the days since Leandra's death. His newly-discovered daughter, Charade, would usually accompany him. Bethany enjoyed getting to know her new cousin. Her sister's mabari, Dumat, was always showering her with affection, though he had never been quite the same since his human's death.

With a heavy sigh, Bethany turned to look once more at the pictures on the mantle. Mother, young and happy. Father, smiling indulgently. Carver scowling, herself smiling shyly. And Marian, her big sister, with her typical exuberant grin in place. She'd always given her all for her family, including her life to save her mother. Many times, Bethany had wished Marian had been with her, to guide her. But, in a way, she had. Marian had always preferred going by her surname, except with her family. Bethany had adopted that trait, in memory of her sister, when they arrived in Kirkwall. The young apostate had always wondered what her sister would do when faced with a difficult decision. In the last few years especially, it had stopped her feeling so alone and helpless when she felt as though she were being swept away by the events around her, only capable of keeping her head above water as she was thrown about in every direction but the one she wished to go in.

She blinked out of her thoughts when Anders gently squeezed her hand and offered her a tired but supportive smile.

"Are you alright, Beth? Do you want me to send a messenger to Varric to say we're not coming?"

Despite the ache in her chest, Bethany smiled and shook her head, brushing at a stray strand of hair falling over his brow.

"I'm okay now, Anders. I'm ready," She replied, squeezing his hand back briefly. He gave her one of his smiles then, one of the open grins that gave her a bittersweet glimpse of the man he used to be.

"Come on then, love. The others will be wondering where we are,"

Nodding, she turned and the two apostates headed for the door, Dumat stretching and trotting over from his place by the fire to follow them. Life could be hard, and there were moments when she felt she had nothing left to give, nothing to live for, but then she would be gently reminded that there were still people who cared for her, who relied on her and would grieve were she lost. Every time the loneliness threatened to drown her, she would be pulled out of the current by the hands that loved her and embraced by those that called her friend and sister. Life could be hard, but it was still beautiful, all the same.


End file.
